


too late

by foreverfrostandwar



Series: Warfrost RP Collection [2]
Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, F/M, Gen, Sifki Week, Suicide, why do I always do this to myself and others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverfrostandwar/pseuds/foreverfrostandwar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU | Drug addicted!Loki. Warning: Suicide and angst, a lot of damn angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	too late

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kneelbeforethegodofmischief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kneelbeforethegodofmischief/gifts).



> For Sifki Week on [tumblr](http://swordhandandsilvertongue.tumblr.com/post/75909768160/metalshell-hello-everyone-its-my-great), day six: AU.  
> \----  
> You may need a little bit of context to understand some things. This AU!Loki sees in suicide the last solution. Sif has not been very close to him before this, merely knowing him through Thor. She has therefore failed to notice his slow breakdown. Now that she did, there is nothing she’s been able to say to persuade him not to make the decision of ending his own life. He collapsed one time right before her and she’d manage to bring him to a hospital from where he escaped as he woke up again. She’s made it to her duty to find him.  
> This one-shot starts off after their last conversation outside in which she one last time pleaded to him to no avail not to make this mistake.

There he went, his thin silhouette so unusually hunched as it shrunk in the distance, striding away from her, curving further by every single one of those accursed steps that guided him towards the wrong path. Had her eyes but only rested seconds longer upon him than they truly had, she would have noticed it - so did she tell herself now that there was nothing she could do anymore, now that her immobile hands were colder than the winter’s last chills around her.

 _She ought to have known_. The hard etched furrow on his pale forehead that by every passing day had seemed to bore deeper inside his front. _She ought to have known_. The tremble that had hovered over the thin, greying skin of his fragile hand, adumbrating his fall. _She ought to have known_.

_(too late…)_

He had started aging centuries before this collapse. His suffering had hung in dark shadows beneath his eyes (empty eyes, having long ago turned from the vivid emerald to a numb greyish autumn moss), dark shadows that pulled him down with their weight.

_(“Sif. Sif Sif Sif…”, the curve on his thin lips had twitched discreetly, invisible to inattentive eyes, save for Sif. Her gaze had been resting on his sharp features during all this time - it seemed as if she had been waiting for something, for something she did not know herself – so that she did not miss this secretive smile from which emanated such genuineness, such sincerity, as seldom had been discerned on his face. Small and faint and yet so warm a smile, its sight so contagious that she felt for a moment her heart respond with an intense beat. It struck her after a moment that he looked happy; it was all the more striking to realize that this expression was not one she had seen on his face since the innocent years of youth._

_“What happened with_ you _, boy?”, she had wanted to know, frowning confusedly. Oh, how she ought to have known in that moment. In that moment when the only response leaving him had been a low chuckle and as her eyes had eventually trailed up to his, his forest-hued ones were looking right_ through _her. She had called his name worried, once at first, twice then, to none of which he even reacted, not even with a subtle startle at the voice’s raising. Then, she had become furious. “Mocking again, Odinson!” She had not paid attention to the reddened eyes, to his widely dilated pupils, to the slight shaking of his left hand, not then, not yet. Unwise, so unwise.)_

_(“You have never seen me, Sif. Not then, not now.”)_

Tears sprung back into her mourning eyes, blurring her vision little by little, wetting in slow streams the woman’s cheeks. Her heart bled with pain, her entire body achingly urged her to run, to run after him, to yell, to beg, to keep repeating things already said and, yes, also unsaid ones, but the same urge kept her now also frozen to the ground, kept her tense.

 _(“You cannot do this to your family-“– “They are not my family, they have never been!” – “This does not change that they love you, Loki. Frigga does, Thor does, I…” – “You what, Sif._ What _. Will you tell me now that you, who has never addressed more than two polite words to me, and even those out of obligation, will carry now anything_ reminiscent _to sentiment to me? I thought you knew better than fooling the great liesmith. You do not care, never did, and what you believe you feel now is but mere pity, the last thing I wish.”)_

And there had been nothing she could have retorted. She, who indeed had never spent much thought on the young, isolated brother of her close friend. And the truth, as hard as it was to admit, was that had she not seen him injecting himself, then nothing would have changed in her caring either. She could not possibly pretend otherwise. What could have kindled the interest for that man she barely knew?

 _(“You are no one to tell me what I can do or not. It is my body, my decision, my_ hell _.”)_

Thoughts drifted to all this hatred heavy in his gaze when he had woken up in the hospital. As if she had torn him apart instead of saving him… _Hell_. His life was a hell, he had said.

_(“I was about to finally make this stop! Don’t you see that there is nothing worse than this life?”)_

_(“I don’t_ want _to be saved!”)_

_(Then his shoulders had dropped, the hostile creature with the claws suddenly left vulnerable, vulnerable and old. “Let me for once accomplish something, let me for once… make this suffering come to an end…”)_

 

Her eyes dropped shut at the painful weight of the tears. The silence settled into her veins, molded to those last dialogues. _(“Who gives you the right to decide over_ my _life,_ who _?”)_ Who gave her this right, indeed? Her morals shouted at her to save him but were those morals also always right?

 _(How different he had been when high. Coldness had been what she was familiar with. Hostility, disgust even? Indifference and lack of emotion, yes, had it not always been like thus? The more shocking had the sudden display of his pain become._ She ought to have known _. From what else could coldness be built than through a defense mechanism?)_

_(too late…)_

 

But then, there had been the other side. That side that was not his and yet his. There had been this smile when he had been under the influence of the injections. A smile so genuine and yet not genuine for how could he have even been aware of her in that state. _(He said your name, again and again…)_. It had not been him, she told herself. The only smile he’d have for her when not high would be a hating curl of lips that distorted his face all the more. How could the smile be real if when conscious there had only been contempt? And then again, what would it have changed? What does it change to know that it was a false happiness he had sought, a false smile of this false happiness? Not even that knowledge could fight what was starting to emerge inside of her.

_(And she had smiled back. And that had changed everything.)_

Gone. He was gone. Now not even the Loki who despised her would be there. And she? She what?

 _(Did she feel something for him? Not love yet, not indifference either._ Yet _. Why yet. Yet… yet. It meant no good, no good for Sif. He would not come back.)_

He had been so broken… Was it that which had changed something inside her? Was it the smile? Was it him whispering her name? Or was it the fear she had felt when she had seen him unconscious on the ground? The fear she could not inject into action now, the fear she could not calm with faint hopes, the fear that was eating her from inside, as if she was dying herself, slowly, with him.

_(What was time without hope? Punishment, time would be punishment. )_

She what? She… she would have to fight without weapons. A battle she had not expected. A battle she had to lead completely unprepared.

_(“You have never seen me, Sif. Not then, not now.”)_

Yes, now…. _Now_ …                                      _(Too late…)_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry ;_; (even if not as sorry as I should XD) And oh, I think I love brackets way too much haha  
> Also a special thanks to [murdur](http://archiveofourown.org/users/murdur) for checking this out <3


End file.
